


Confessions of a Right Bastard

by Bryn Lantry (Bryn)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1991-01-01
Updated: 1991-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:37:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryn/pseuds/Bryn%20Lantry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>printed in the zine 'Resistance 5', 1991</p>
    </blockquote>





	Confessions of a Right Bastard

**Author's Note:**

> printed in the zine 'Resistance 5', 1991

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[Letter One, pencilled on the reverse of computer-generated algebra in a slanting, jagged hand]

Attn: Blake

This epistle format is a recourse for paying a debt of speech inimical to my nature. You will see I am not a handy writer, either. I embolden my graphic stick with the pretence that I won't deliver this, either by stealth or forthrightly.

You know well I often lie through my teeth. On personal matters, that is. I compensate with a knack for offensive honesty in everything else. Actually, some of what I said was factual. Your great big heart, for example, does bleed all over the deck. However, I retract the tone of the observation. Observation, not pronouncement of contempt. To rephrase – yes, your sentiment regarding me has been perceptible.

The bite, on the other hand, I do not rescind. Brutality for mockery. Besides, the only other choice was unthinkable.

As to what you said. You told me I was never man enough to plainly confess my hatred. Were I perfectly a man I would, presumably, hate you. My deviancy is not news to you, of course. You cannot understand the things that petty factor entails.

The remainder of this letter is one of those things, and may disgust you. If so, you are aware I have a list of boltholes. To run to if it gets too hot here, as Vila once said. On that I reserve comment, Blake. To be short about it, if at any stage you become desperate enough (in your dedicated celibacy) I would do what I dislike to write – swallow you. I would indeed be glad to. There will be no catches or strings. Strictly unilateral, I assure you.

I didn't intend to suggest such a thing so crassly. Or, in fact, at all. But recently I have come to believe lying unpersuasive. And no doubt ignoble. Also, a debilitating form of self-punishment.

I think that covers everything. Far too much, you will say.

– Kerr

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[Letter Two, in bold and rotund script, on the removed flyleaf of an old-fashioned book]

Dear Kerr, my right bastard:

I decided against an answer in person. You see, if I told you my truth face to face, your reluctance to hear might make me relent and stop. And the feelings expressed herein are ruthless. On paper, you can't escape them – unless you rip this to pieces. Your prerogative, Avon. Yet I must be frank at last. Maybe I'm ignoring your nature, maybe this letter really will be hard for you, a flouting of your reticence. Being pig-headed, as rumour has it, I can't care sufficiently to refrain.

Not good enough, Kerr. There are greater things in the offing between you and I than bites or swallows. Unilateral, I ask you? Yesterday, my kiss wasn't in mockery. You tell me your bite wasn't in hatred. I copy your bravery and write down what may be disgusting to you. For myself, at least, the potential of us extends beyond my sight. Beyond my thinking, but not beyond my dreaming, Avon – you know me. Please believe this is possibility, though, not my mere ambition of desire.

I always sensed the ground between you and I was treacherous. But it took a while to identify the threatening pit, didn't it? There's a name for this particular pit, but in deference to your conduct codes I shall keep it quiet. For the time being.

In warning you, don't imagine I'm free from fear myself.

Re: the details. I'm like to be clumsy. Perhaps in the domes, where anything human and enjoyable is suspect, I was less rebellious than yourself! But then you like showing off your expertise in spheres untraveled by me.

Yours,

Roj

(yours particularly when my lip heals)

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[Letter Three, scribbled on the bottom of a systems report directed to Blake from Zen]

Roj Blake

If we are fated for this pit of yours, you had best stop evading me and come here, hadn't you? I am prepared to jump if you are. I could never resist your challenges. Naturally, I have less to lose. I thought proximity to you bad enough for the glands etc.; inexplicably, division is worse.

Note that I have a return warning. My obsession with you – I refer to a fleshly level – is extreme. I have a crude and cruel brain – formed in the high echelons, not the best of workshops. What you foreshadow is possibly beyond my appreciation. You write spiritual letters, Blake.

You will, if I understand you, like me to add, that were my substance of a softer grain, then of all my acquaintance (licit and otherwise) you would be the victim of that softness.

The irresponsibility of long-distance communication seems to be short-circuiting my common sense. I advise no more of it. Probably, though, your presence will do worse.

\--Yours, as you see, whether or not I approve the allocation,

Kerr

(PS. Don't be dilatory. I have a great deal to show off, and rebel life expectancy is short)

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End file.
